The Gift of Being Seen

What a gift it is to be seen.
To be witnessed in our perfectly imperfect being.

I think about how delighted I am to find a new leaf on my monstera deliciosa. Tightly wound, the tip of a new leaf poking its head up and through the case where it’s been getting strong enough for it to break free. I shimmy, squeal as my family rolls their eyes lovingly.

Then day after day, first thing in the morning, I walk over to my plant to bear witness. To marvel in astonishment and awe at her growth. Small, incremental, and beautiful. And then one day she is fully free from the casing, and the unfurling begins. Slowly. Softly. I love this.

I stand and watch from various angles—just amazed at the magic of it all. That this happens without my nudging. This happens because it’s what’s in this plant to do. So much so, if you cut a stem and put it in water, it will grow new roots and begin again.

So day after day, I watch as the leaf unfolds, opening itself up to the light until it is done. And then I touch it lightly, admiring its softness that was necessary for it to unfurl. And now once open, water, nutrients, and sun will strengthen it, turning it from bright new green to dark forest green.

And over time, it will split, creating those distinctive holes—beautiful signs of life. And oh the audacity. Some leaves will grow bigger. Some will brown on the tips. Some will grow stunted. Some will yellow because of my limited but budding knowledge of how to properly care for and support the plant’s DNA and growth.

But even in all of that—the ups and downs, the unfolding and the dormant season—my witnessing is an act of love and appreciation of what is. The miracle of life that is.

We are all worthy of that.
Being witnessed in our various stages.
To be checked on daily.
Marveled at.
Seen at the beginning and as we make great strides, as we reach toward the sun and our fullness.

To have someone squeal in delight as we unfold soft and new. Vulnerable. Fragile. Until the light and water reach deep within and we’ve had practice being.

We deserve to have someone ooo and ahh over us and notice when we’ve had too much or not enough of what we need, so they can help us adjust.

We are meant to have support—stakes for our aerial roots to hold onto so we can grow upwards, bigger, stronger. This is what it means—how invaluable it is, why it’s necessary and well—everything—to be witnessed.

We don’t depend on it.
But what a joy it is to see and be seen.

Amen.

Closing Reflection

So if I had to offer a challenge — or maybe more accurately, an invitation, as I often do — I want to invite you to think about this:

Where have you been hiding?

Where have you been tucking yourself away, not allowing yourself to be seen — and in that way, depriving yourself of the goodness, the love, the warmth that comes with it?

There is no perfect.

My monstera leaf is not concerned about how it looks next to the other leaves. It is simply doing what is in it to do.

And I marvel at that.

And I’d say it’s almost certain — maybe even 100% likely — that when you do what is in you to do, there will be someone who sees you and marvels at that too.

And it will feel good.

Maybe that’s the universe’s way of positively reinforcing aligned behavior. For those of us who are parents, you know what I mean — we positively reinforce good decision-making. Aligned decision-making. Honest behavior. Behavior that’s in integrity with who we really are.

Maybe that feeling of warmth and love is the universe saying:
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
More of that. More of that.

What a gift it is to be seen.
To be witnessed in all of our imperfect perfection.

What a gift — and one we can give ourselves — by showing up and allowing ourselves to be seen.

Happy New Year’s Eve.